Aloysius collapsed to his knees as the blinding visions receded, his chest heaving as if he'd been drowning. Kaelis and Elyon rushed to his side, but the look in his eyes stopped them they saw centuries of grief staring back.
The Guardian stood still now, no longer hostile, its glowing fissures dimming to a soft ember.
"You have carried my burden and remain whole," it said, though its voice held a strange reverence. "The shard is yours, but its truth will haunt you."
From the hollow of the ancient tree, a crystalline fragment floated forward, shimmering with both beauty and quiet menace. Aloysius reached out, and as his fingers touched it, a warmth unlike the searing power of the others spread through him. This shard carried not only strength, but the wisdom of the countless lives lost before.
But the victory was bittersweet. Memories not his own still echoed in his skull: the clash of empires, the weeping of children, the collapse of great cities into dust.
As they left Hollow Vale, the air lightened, but Aloysius didn't speak for hours. When he finally did, his voice was lower, quieter.
"Every shard we take… someone paid for it with everything they had. We're not just reclaiming pieces of the Veil we're walking through the graves of those who came before."
Elyon exchanged a glance with Kaelis. Neither of them knew how to answer. The road ahead was still long, but now they walked it with the shadow of history pressing close at their heels.